


Rosella's New Dress

by quicksparrows



Series: For Emmy – Frederick x Rosella [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7846246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick gets handsy with his wife and her new dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosella's New Dress

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last October to fluster Emmy, didn't get around to posting it. Doing it tonight to fluster Emmy again. Having me as a friend is both boon and bane; Who am I to deny her? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Also I have apparently written so much FEA fic I forgot I already had a ficlet called The Dress. Fuck lol.
> 
> Why the fuck am I always writing clothing-themed stuff for Frederick????????? When did I decide this was His Thing???????? (Oh yeah: look at what he wears.)

.

 

 

The moment their bedroom door is closed behind them, Frederick leans over her shoulder, so close that she feels the little hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. His breath is warm on the shell of her ear, and before Rosella can turn to look at him, his lips ghost over her earlobe. She giggles.

"You're so romantic," she says, but she's long known that. Frederick commits himself indelibly to whatever task is before him, and lovemaking is no different. 

"Thank you," Frederick says, scarcely distracted away from her skin. He murmurs " _I like that dress on you"_ and the compliment settles on her like a warm blanket, and she leans back against him with a smile blossoming on her face. 

"Thank _you_ ," she says. "I think it's my new favorite."

"I should hope so," he says, still lingering close. She feels one of his broad hands settle on her waist, fingers splayed, and it slides down to her hip. She can hear the intrigue on his voice: "It's very well tailored. It must have taken a number of fittings to get it just... so."

He nibbles on her earlobe and then kisses his way to the side of her neck, where the turtleneck collar of her dress stops him.

"I thought you'd like it," she says, as his hands both rove down her hips, smoothly, and she leans into his arms, against his broad chest. 

"I do. However, I have one complaint," he says, about as close to teasing as he ever gets. He breathes his deeply as his hands span her thighs, curving her with him as he reaches. She folds herself against him easily, pressed back against his hips. 

"Oh?" she asks, mischievous. 

He slides his fingers along the bottom hem, dragging it up scarcely an inch or two. She feels a flush settling on her cheeks, and he lets the fabric rest mere inches below her panties. The air is cool in their drafty old castle room, but she hardly feels it with his hand so close. She can't help but giggle again.

He brushes the side of her face with his nose. She leans into his gaze, catching the look in his eyes –– stern, loving.

"A little short, isn't it?"

"Maybe a little," she says. "Don't you like that?"

She stretches a little in his arms, deliberately pressing herself into his lap, and he drags a palm against her bare thigh, up so high that her dress rides up to her hip.

"There's a certain appeal in it," Frederick says, low and dark. "You're a real minx, aren't you?"

Rosella giggles, and she reaches up to rake her fingers through his hair, clutching his head close to her. 

"I got it for you," she says. "Because I'm YOUR little minx."

Frederick hums in her ear, warm and agreeable, and that hand on her thigh slides to her panties, where his fingers trace the waistband. She arches her back.

"It'll look more conservative with my coat on," she says. "And my belt, and boots... no one will know, so it's your little secret."

"Would you have me distracted in battle, thinking of that?" he whispers.

He reaches with one hand to pull down her collar, so that he can put his mouth to her neck, to a spot that will be thoroughly hidden.

"Your conviction will carry you through," she murmurs, and then gasps when he fits his lips to the soft spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He kisses and sucks gently, his mouth hot on her skin, and he squeezes her through her panties, just once.

"My little secret, then," Frederick hums when he's left a mark, wet and throbbing. He whispers to her, again: "My little slattern, hmm?"

"All yours," she says, breathily. And, with her fingers dug into his forearm, she says: "And you're all mine."

"I see no mark proving it," he tells her, and he lets her pull away in order to turn in his arms. He leans back against the table's edge, and she deliberately stands with his thigh between hers, her little dress still hiked up. His thigh is muscular, strong; she straddles him when they stand like that, and the friction alone gets her wet. With eager, nimble fingers, Rosella reaches to his collar and unbuttons it. His tie comes loose with another tug.

And with his hand roving up her back and his breath rising a little, she marks him too, right below the line of his collar, where no one else gets to see but her.


End file.
